


Les Tricoteuses

by KareliaSweet



Series: Couperin Trilogy [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Will, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Solved Already, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Teasing, Vague Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5137127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KareliaSweet/pseuds/KareliaSweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up directly after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5050285">Les Barricades Mystérieuses</a>. Hannibal and Will learn lessons about begging and the importance of going organic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Tricoteuses

Never once in his near forty years of existence did Will Graham ever think he would be begging for a cock in his ass.

Never once did he ever think that if ever – by some wild circumstance – he were to find himself in such a situation, that it would be Hannibal Lecter’s cock he’d be begging for.

And yet here he is.

He has lain there for the better part of two hours, his wrists tied to the headboard in the flimsiest way imaginable, whilst Hannibal has worshipped his body to frustration with lips, fingers, and tongue. It is ecstatic. It is glorious. And Will wants more.

“Please,” he keens through sweat-sheened lips, “Please, Hannibal.”

He almost wants to pull himself free and bring Hannibal’s cock inside him by force, but the game that he’s playing is so delicious he has the need to see it play out in its entirety. Hannibal has broken his resolve so thoroughly he can only go along for the ride, and God if it hasn’t been a good ride so far. Hannibal is currently sucking filthy kisses against the most intimate part of him, hands gripping underneath his thighs and feasting as though it were his last supper. He looks up, mouth slicked in spit, and grins.

“Please what, Will?”

Will rolls his hips, his cock straining up against his belly. “Please fuck me,” he begs.

It is not the first time he’s begged this evening, and he’s woefully sure it won’t be the last. Hannibal gets a clear thrill from each supplication, and he’s too patient to open the floodgates just yet.

“I do adore the sounds you make when you are so in need Will,” Hannibal murmurs against his thigh, biting into a bruise he’s been working on slowly throughout the night.

“But I don’t believe you’re quite ready yet,” he says casually, and rolls Will’s balls into his mouth.

Will groans and grinds himself against Hannibal, his cock bobbing helplessly and dripping heavy onto his stomach.

“I can’t – can’t take much more of this.” He bites down into his lip, enough to hurt, anything to distract him from the coiling pleasure within him. “I need you, Hannibal, please.”

Hannibal raises his head from laving Will’s sac and swipes a long lick across the crease of his hip. Smile glinting wicked, he begins his crawl up Will’s body, careful to brush his cock against Will’s on his climb. Will’s hips jump hard at the contact, and he twists up to seek it again.

Hannibal bows low to kiss him, at once tender and fierce, loving and carnal. He sucks Will’s tongue, diving fingers into his hair to grab a fistful and pull Will deeper into him. He feels the tension run along Will’s biceps from being bound for so long and tears his mouth free to bite the shaking muscle.

“Free yourself, Will.”

Will groans, and with a snap, his arms break free and wind tight around Hannibal’s shoulders, legs following suit. He clings to him like a vine, limbs crawling and spreading across him, eager to feel every inch of skin pressed to him.

“I want you,” he murmurs hot and velvety into Hannibal’s ear. Their cocks touch again, sweet and slippery, and twin moans escape them both.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal says into his ear, “The things I will do to you. How I will make you cry out for me.”

Will feels him tense suddenly, and he pulls his head back to meet Hannibal’s eyes. He looks pained and almost disappointed.

“This will have to suffice,” he says, and he suddenly shifts his weight back to sit on his thighs and begins to stroke his cock.

“Hannibal, what are you…?”

Hannibal’s eyes burn into him and Will feels suddenly pinned to the bedsheets despite being freed.

“Dear God you are beautiful,” Hannibal growls, and then, suddenly, he is coming, spurting over his hand and onto Will’s chest. A few drops spatter up to Will’s neck and one lands on his lower lip. Will gasps unsteadily as uncertain arousal staccatoes through him. Hannibal bends to kiss the mess away and wraps a firm hand around Will’s cock.

Will has been kept wound in a tight spiral for so long that all it takes are a few languid tugs before he releases with a short cry under Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal licks into his mouth, grunting almost savagely as he rides out Will’s pleasure with him.

As the drunkenness of lust recedes and Will finds his bearings, he feels a cold shame creep through him. Hannibal’s cum is drying into his skin. Will just spent over an hour begging for his cock and was… denied it? He gives Hannibal a rough push and jumps from the bed, wincing as he feels their mingled semen drip down his stomach.

“Will,” he hears Hannibal start, and he raises one hand to silence him without turning back. He walks to his bathroom and shuts the door behind him, locking it for good measure. He turns the knob of the shower and waits for the spray to reach near-scalding before he steps under it, standing in shock for a few long moments before he begins to scrub.

When he is clean and dry, he returns to his bedroom, unsurprised to find it vacated. He curls under the covers and stares at the wall, uncertain of what the hell just happened.

-x-

Hannibal is waiting for him on the veranda the next morning with French toast and omelettes for them both. He has his laptop at the table, unusual for him, and even more unusual when he closes it quickly as he sees Will enter. Will sits and regards the spread before him, wishing it didn’t smell so delicious. Hannibal smiles and leans to kiss him good morning but Will dodges him with a scowl.

“Fuck you if you think you’re going to kiss me this morning.”

Hannibal manages to somehow pout and smirk at the same time.

“What did I tell you about language, Will?”

“You said no language in the bedroom. This is the veranda. I repeat: fuck you.”

Hannibal takes a small bite of omelette and eyes him thoughtfully.

“I thought you quite enjoyed last night’s excursions, Will.”

“Excursions?” Will drops his fork with a clatter. “You came on my chest. Not what I asked for.”

Hannibal reaches to stroke a curled finger down Will’s cheek. “I don’t believe I heard a complaint.”

Will flushes dark and staves off the tide of arousal lapping at his heels.

“Stop it,” he snaps, standing with a forceful shove of his chair behind him. He bears down on Hannibal, eyes narrowed in anger.

“Do you know how hard – _difficult-_ ” he amends, “it was for me to ask you to-to” he throws his hands in the air and exhales angrily.

“ _You_ , Hannibal. You’ve hurt me, psychologically tortured me, stuck a _knife_ in me, and somehow against all odds we end up together, _willingly_. And then when you finally wear me down and I ask you to fuck me - you say _no_?”

Hannibal looks visibly chastened and he reaches an unsteady hand toward him. “Will-”

“No, Hannibal. This isn’t another of your games that you can force me to play. I told you this wasn’t why I chose this life with you.” He clears a wide berth from him and moves Hannibal’s hand aside.

“Don’t touch me again,” Will says quietly.

He leaves his food to grow cold and heads down the narrow path towards the ocean, determined to walk until his mind no longer has the echo of Hannibal’s touch ringing through it.

-x-

When Will returns that afternoon, Hannibal is sitting at the harpsichord without playing. His fingers ghost along the keys, and he strokes them forlornly but does not move to pluck sound. When Will enters the room, he looks up at him with sorrowful eyes and Will sighs. Hannibal has always had the damnable ability to look especially beautiful when he’s sad.  


“I’m sorry, Will,” he says, and Will knows he means it.

 “Yeah,” Will sighs, and perches himself on the edge of a nearby chaise, “I still don’t understand why you – denied me. It was, well,” he rubs his palm against his cheek and looks away, “it was embarrassing.”

Hannibal turns to him with a rueful smile. “The thought struck me, at the most inopportune moment I will admit, that perhaps you were not prepared for-” He pauses and sighs heavily, bracing his palms on his thighs. “I have wanted this far longer than you, Will. I want the first time we are completely intimate to be perfect.”

Will smiles despite himself at his near-lover’s unabashed romanticism. “Hannibal, we’re not in high school.  I don’t need flowers and candles.”

“No, perhaps,” Hannibal admits, “but to take you as you asked me to when you have just turned a corner of sexual discovery for yourself-”

“Still not gay,” Will interjects.

“I am aware,” Hannibal responds, swallowing thickly, “and still very much aroused by the fact.”

“The fact remains that in this area you are, for lack of a better word, a virgin. I thought perhaps you – we – both might benefit from a more measured pacing.”

The words ring true but still hollow over the memory of the evening’s events, and Will quirks a brow.

“You could have said all of this before you came all over me, you know.”

“You will forgive me,” Hannibal says, “your body is a distraction of riches. I knew I could no longer contain myself. Had I waited a moment longer I might have taken you by force.”

“I might have enjoyed it,” Will interjects.

“You would not,” Hannibal says, “the practicality of lubrication aside, I doubt you would be walking today.”

An illicit thrill shudders through Will at the thought, and Hannibal catches the tail of it.

“Perhaps you will not find it hard to believe that I am partial to delayed gratification?”

Will sighs and moves to sit on the bench next to Hannibal. He leans a head on his shoulder but doesn’t seek further contact.

“Don’t you think we’ve delayed enough?” he asks, eyes wide and a little too innocent.

Hannibal kisses his hair lightly, a delicate touch laced with uncertainty after Will’s earlier command.

“Good things come to those who wait, as the adage says.”

“Yeah, but not _on_ them,” he replies, and nudges Hannibal’s knee with his own.

“At least not without asking.”

-x-

A package arrives the following day, and Will signs for it at the door. Shirtless and wearing only his boxers when he opens the door, Will finds himself being given a very hungry and obvious once-over by the delivery boy. Objectively the boy is classically handsome, but Will doesn’t even feel a flutter of arousal at such blatant flirtation. Will smiles awkwardly at the attention and shuts the door firmly on his cheeky grin.

 _Yep_ , he thinks to himself, _still not gay_.

The package is addressed to a pseudonym they both use, and feeling particularly nosy, Will opens it himself. Inside is a glass jar with a matte black label and an indecipherable logo in gold-leaf. It feels weighty and expensive. Puzzled, he unscrews the lid and his jaw drops.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, and bolts down the hall to Hannibal’s room.

He busts through without so much as a knock, and Hannibal looks up in surprise.

“Organic lube?” Will exclaims, waving the jar in Hannibal’s face. “ _That’s_ why you wanted to wait?”

Hannibal shifts himself to sit upright and puts his newspaper aside.

“I see my package arrived.”

Will tosses the jar at him and it lands with a thud on the bed.

“All this talk about delayed gratification and how you want it to be _perfect_ , and you were just waiting for your fancy lube to arrive?!”

He jumps onto the bed beside him, grinning, and takes Hannibal’s face between his hands.

“You fucking princess,” he says, kissing him fondly, “I love you.”

It’s said almost as an afterthought, but he feels Hannibal’s breath still beneath him.

“Say that again,” Hannibal whispers.

Will’s grin spreads wider and he drags his thumbs across Hannibal’s cheekbones.

“You. Fucking. Princess,” he enunciates, fixing kisses across his face with every syllable.

Hannibal’s hand curls around his wrist, and he pulls back gently, eyes searching and wondrous.

Now, Will thinks, would be the perfect time to make Hannibal beg, but for his life he knows he won’t make him.

“I love you,” he says, and he barely gets the last word out before Hannibal has dragged his mouth to his, hands sweeping across his back and pulling him into his lap. His kisses are sweet and tender as wildflowers, spread across his mouth and cheeks and hair. Will squirms in his arms, laughing at the abundance of affection.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, “maybe you were waiting for that too.”

Hannibal ceases his kisses to splay an open palm against Will’s chest.

“Will,” he breathes, ducking to press a kiss between his fingers into Will’s very heart. “Will,” he says again, and again, and with every utterance of his name Will feels the tightness in his chest constricting.

“I love you,” he says against his skin, so quiet and so reverent that even Will himself feels like he has accidentally intruded on some sacred space. He slips his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and holds tight against him, laying a feather-light kiss to the top of his head.

“You could have just said you were waiting for your fancy lube,” he mutters.

Hannibal raises his head to kiss Will’s cheek. “And then you would have insisted on using olive oil, or worse,” his mouth curls in disdain, “Astroglide.”

Will laughs. “What’s wrong with Astroglide?”

“Aside from the atrocious name, it contains glycerin and parabens. Also it has a terrible aftertaste.”

Will wrinkles his nose. “The less said about that the better. So,” he palms the jar between them, raising an insouciant brow, “can we use it now?”

Hannibal licks his lips and steadies his grip on Will’s waist. “Now?”

Will parts his mouth and bends to graze his lower lip gently against Hannibal’s.

“Now,” he says, “and I’m not going to beg.”

“I had planned,” Hannibal murmurs, “an evening. With dinner.” He brushes his nose against Will’s neck. “Flowers.” Opens his mouth against Will’s pulse. “Candles.” He closes his lips and begins to suck softly.

Will tilts his head back and lets out a little moan. “I can wait if you can,” he says, and they both grin at the blatant lie.

Hannibal dips his elbow and scoops Will from his lap, rolling to balance himself above him.

“I have waited long enough,” he purrs, and bends his mouth to Will’s, kissing him deep.

Will slips long arms around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him close and tilting his mouth against his.

Both already half-hard, it doesn’t take long before they are fully tight with arousal, cocks bumping and slipping against each other. Hannibal turns Will onto his back and draws a map of kisses across his body, worship and adoration traced into his suprasternal notch, his collarbone, his firm stomach and the jutting lines of his hips.

When he reaches the juncture of his thighs, Hannibal dips his nose just to breathe him in, coarse curls tickling against him. Will pets trembling fingers through his hair, shaky sighs matching the quaking of his body. Small moans spill out of him, soft and low, and Hannibal smiles as he takes a deep inhale of the intoxicating scent of his lover.

He reaches across the bed for the jar, which, Hannibal notes, Will has already surreptitiously unscrewed in his eagerness. He slicks a generous amount across his fingers and situates himself comfortably between Will’s spread legs.

Will peeks down at him from behind the arm he has crooked across his forehead, and his cock twitches at the sight of Hannibal’s glistening hand.

With tender precision, Hannibal slips a slick finger into Will, pausing to let his muscles adjust to him. Will squirms slightly at the pressure but grows pliant as Hannibal slips kisses along his inner thigh. Hannibal hums against his skin and presses his finger further, rubbing gently to relax the muscle around him. Will feels his hips rise and fall softly at Hannibal’s motion and bites his lip with a soft smile, reaching to lazily tug at his cock to amplify the warm liquid feeling buzzing through him. Hannibal tuts against him, nipping the tender flesh that still carries a yellowing bruise, and slips another finger inside.

Will’s jaw goes slack and his head falls back onto the pillows, fists clenching at the sheets beneath him. Hannibal slides a free hand up his chest to flick and pinch at first one nipple, then another, and Will’s hips give a tiny jerk against Hannibal’s hand. As the ring of muscle loosens around Hannibal’s fingers, he begins to thrust a little deeper, bending his fingers at just the right angle to graze Will’s prostate. At the first brush, Will bucks as though electrified, exclaiming a startled “Oh!”, and Hannibal soothes him down with a press of his palm to Will’s chest. He continues his path, adding a little pressure with each crook of his fingers as Will’s breath begins to shorten into heated puffs.

“Hannibal,” he gasps, “I need-”

Hannibal shifts, moving in a slow slide across Will’s body until he is almost atop him, hand working steady beneath. He moves rougher and faster, scissoring his fingers to open him more thoroughly.

“I thought you weren’t going to beg, Will,” he teases with a wet kiss to Will’s panting mouth.

Will tears his clenched fist from the sheets and thrusts his hands into Hannibal’s hair, weaving tight through the silvering strands and crushing their mouths together.

“I’m not begging,” he warns low and reedy, “I’m telling you. Get inside me.”

“So demanding,” Hannibal murmurs and reaches for the jar, slathering his cock until it is shining and slippery. Will moves his hand to take Hannibal in his grasp and stroke in tandem, guiding him towards his entrance with more than a little force. Hannibal withdraws his fingers and scoops more lube to rub tenderly against Will’s opening before he begins to press in.

Will tenses and Hannibal balances his weight above him, stroking his hair and dropping light kisses atop the line of his mouth until it slackens.

“Relax,” he says slowly, “let me in.”

At the tender careful words, Will blossoms his mouth and body anew against Hannibal’s, ripe for kisses and so much more. Another small push and Will feels the head of Hannibal’s cock enter him.

For a moment, they just breathe.

Hannibal slides into him, careful and slow, pausing to allow Will to adjust as he buries himself. Will breathes around the tightness, feeling the edges of ecstasy tug around him. Hannibal brushes sweat-matted curls from his face and looks down at him.

“How do you feel, Will?”

Will widens his hips a little, the movement sinks Hannibal a touch further inside him and he gasps.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, his chin raising to arch his neck in a strained line of muscle. Hannibal bends to kiss along the column of his neck, worrying against his pulse. Will clutches into Hannibal’s shoulders with pulsing grips, leaving deep red fingerprints in his wake. He breathes with a shudder against him and feels the blissful sensation wash further into him.

“More,” he says softly, and Hannibal pushes deeper.

He feels the tremors running along the muscles of Hannibal’s back, the desperate need to thrust within him and claim him violently. He loves him all the more in this moment of restraint.

“Soon,” he whispers into his ear, “soon you’re going to fuck me so hard.”

Hannibal’s hips jerk against him at that, bidden by his words alone. Will feels the breath knocked out of him and he laughs, startled.

“Be careful what you wish for, my boy,” Hannibal replies in kind, biting at Will’s trembling lower lip.

Will feels himself open further and decides to experiment a little, clenching his muscles around Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal lets out a hoarse cry of surprise and delight.

“You’re learning remarkably quickly,” he gasps out, and Will repeats the action again.

Hannibal begins to slowly rock back, inch by inch, almost torturously slow as Will grasps at his hips, fingers slipping over slickened skin.

“You feel,” Hannibal murmurs, dipping to kiss him, “like the most beautiful painting brought to life.”

He trace his tongue across Will’s throat and catches his jaw between his teeth.

“I want to consume you,” he says, slowly pushing back into him, “devour you.”

“God,” Will moans, his eyes fluttering closed, “Oh, Christ you feel…” he trails off, overwhelmed as pulses of pleasure ring through him low and deep.

“Tell me,” Hannibal says, “tell me everything.”

He beings to thrust evenly, the welcoming heat of Will’s body enveloping him further with every twist of his hips. Will arches to meet each thrust, his back curving in a sweet arch as he finds himself claimed with fevered passion.

“I feel all of you,” he breathes, “Inside me, you feel – it’s so good – I can feel everything. Everything, Hannibal.”

And it’s true. As sure as he can feel Hannibal fucking him, he can _feel_ Hannibal fucking him, feel every pulse and breath and gasp as sure if it were his own. Every sensation is twinned within them, they are one writhing creature, locked together in sweet, heady battle. He never wants it to stop, and says as much into Hannibal’s ear, a litany of divine worship.

Hannibal reaches to snake an arm about Will’s head, tugging his hair back and pressing them chest to chest. Will’s cock drips thick and heavy between them as Hannibal presses hot kisses down the column of his throat, grazing against his pulse with his teeth.

Will locks his legs around Hannibal’s hips and cries out as Hannibal catches on his prostate with a well-angled thrust.

“There,” he murmurs, kissing wild and blind into Hannibal’s hair. “ _there_.”

“I know,” Hannibal says, and begins to strike against the same spot in merciless unrelenting thrusts, winding glorious pressure deep within Will’s belly.

“Yes,” Will hisses, “God, Hannibal.”

He clutches against him and tears Hannibal’s lips from his throat so he can claim them with his own, tongues meeting slow and wet, licking within the velvet-soft of each other’s mouths.

It is perfect. Will has never before felt so full, so completely pleased in every sense of the word, and he knows if he were to die here and somehow make it to heaven he would find it utterly and completely lacking. This, within and without Hannibal, the union of their bodies, is nirvana, it is euphoria, and Will knows that in every moment now without their joining he will feel like part of him is missing.

He breathes in shuddering gasps and in the words that he can form he says how he loves Hannibal, how complete he feels, how utterly good, and Hannibal echoes the same words back to him.

He arches anew when Hannibal reaches between them to grasp his cock and stroke him, firm tugs that match each beat of his hips against the sweet spot inside him. He knows he is close and is desperate for it to never end, but when Hannibal rubs his thumb just so against the head of his cock and sucks a hot kiss at his mouth, Will is undone. Lights spring and flash behind his eyelids and for a moment all he can hear are the rushing of waves as blissful release flows through him. He is dimly aware of the mirrored sensation as Hannibal comes inside him, pressed tight against his ass and gripping him as though he would dissipate without something holding him to this earth.

The clutch at each other as the storm of their climax subsides and passes over them, a cool gentle breeze of kisses left in its wake.

When Will opens his eyes, he sees himself, mired in a haze of bliss. He blinks and there is Hannibal, the same dazed and happy expression matching his. They kiss, sweet and soft and tender, noses rubbing together and pressing close. There is time later to part and shift and wipe clean. For now they stay joined, adoring and lovesick.

Will exhales a boneless sigh and Hannibal nuzzles against him. Will wriggles slightly so that Hannibal can settle between his thighs, head laid upon his chest, and Will traces fingertips up and down the cooling sweat on his back.

“That,” he says, “was worth the fucking wait.”

“What did I say about language in the bedroom?” Hannibal sighs, nothing but mirth in his words.

“You said you’d make an exception for me,” Will replies, “and I made one for you,” he jests lightly, tugging at Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal squeezes him fondly.

“And of that, I am _exceptionally_ glad.”

Will slaps his shoulder and frowns.

“No puns after sex.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Couperin - Les Tricoteuses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXyHJK24M9o)  
>  Fun fact: I picked the title because each piece in the series is named after a Couperin composition, but the term "tricoteuse" is most often used in its historical sense as a nickname for the women who sat beside the guillotine during public executions in Paris in the French Revolution, supposedly continuing to knit in between executions. You learn something new every day!
> 
> There will be one final chapter in the trilogy featuring Bottom!Hannibal and harpsichord sex.
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovies!


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